


The Duke's Window

by dornishsphinx



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fantasy International Politics, Half-Chevois!Leo, No Deeprealms, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10488609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornishsphinx/pseuds/dornishsphinx
Summary: "It was said that if you reached the duke's solar, at the very top of the tallest tower in all of Cheve, there was a west-facing window from which you could see the Kingdom of Nohr in its entirety. It wasn't true. Scarlet had checked. Still, sometimes she fancied she could see Windmire, black and ever-present on the horizon. There was no window that faced the east."In which Cheve receives a visit from the King of Hoshido and Scarlet tries to steady Cheve's precarious balancing act.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for phoenixmiko during the fatesandawakenings2k16 exchange. I may have taken some creative liberties with the depiction of Cheve and its relationship with Nohr - but to be fair, the game was super vague about it too (like, is it an occupied territory or was it always Nohrian or what) so. Also with post-Birthright Leo and pretty much all of FE14's international politics.

Montombre was the traditional Chevois seat of power: a walled city precariously perched on a sloping mountainside peppered with towers: rigid, grey protrusions so battered by age they almost looked like part of the mountain itself. It was said, mainly by those who’d never been up them and underestimated the scale of the world, that one could see the entire Kingdom of Nohr from the topmost window of the tallest of the lot.

The last true duke of Cheve had been dangled from that same window, strangled in Brynhildr’s vines. A whole series of collaborators who followed him - many made worse than those who ran the regime in their sick efforts to please Garon - had gazed off to their overlords in distant Windmire through it. Now, it was Scarlet who stood here, messenger hawk in hand. With some effort, she broke eye contact with the nondescript scrap of paper at its leg and instead peered down, to the tiny speck of red striding uphill at the head of a delegation of other miniature figures. She breathed, closed her eyes and reached out. The bird’s claws tightened momentarily - and then, were gone.

She didn’t open them until she heard the knock at the door and low, muffled voice of the castle seneschal coming through: “The Order awaits your command, Grand Master.”

She reached out to seize her lance from the stand where she always set it, pulling open the door with the other hand. She sent over a sunny smile.

“Coming!”

It took around twenty minutes to wind her way down the tower, her personal rooms being at the very top. She liked it, though. A wyvern knight grew to love the rush of heights. It had been hell on the servants the first few weeks, them being used to the last Lady of Montombre, a woman of Nohrian blood and sympathy, having her quarters closer to the ground floor.

When she recalled Lady Lyonors’ face, hard and accusing and achingly familiar, she missed a step. With reflexes born and honed in battle, she quickly snatched at a piece of jutting stonework to keep balance. The seneschal noticed nothing, but still she near kicked herself once she’d fully steadied; then put all thoughts out of her head.

She moved onto the steps leading down to the main courtyard. The knights stood, waiting. She allowed herself to gaze upon them for a moment longer; their armour and weapons glimmered bright, outshining the pale wintry sunlight. The Peony Order was hers, newest and brighest of the four Chevois orders, but an infant compared with the long histories of Lily, Carnation and Rose.

(She disliked thinking of the Roses too long.)

She cast her gaze outward, to the great gates. She nodded. The men on either side started cranking the opening mechanism.

It had been spring the last time she saw Ryoma in person, though his letters had been as frequent - though sporadic - as the rain. As Hoshido’s king, he corresponded often with her, Cheve’s de facto leader, on the subject of borders and production and law.

Yet, these dry missives had always come with a little piece of scented paper tucked away behind it, covered with details of his daily life: the ongoing saga of Corrin’s romance was one of her particular favourites (she was so obviously enamoured with one of soldiers and yet he’d still not managed to discover who was courting her, he’d told her in a midsummer letter, the deep black scratches revealing his frustration better than words ever could.) The escapades of Takumi’s firstborn always managed to liven her day too - he was a cheerful little soul, apparently, who’d come into the world already with a mop of his mother’s blue-black hair and a mischevious streak that confounded his caretakers.

He’d told her of the cherry blossom of Shirasagi all blowing away westwards, to Montombre - to her, he dreamed - of the tears he’d hidden when a courtier had recounted the day she saw his parents’ marriage amid them and his rage at the court’s subtle pressure for him to marry one of Hoshido’s finest daughters. He wrote of her absence being a hollow at his side, detailing his agony at only having memories of kisses and nothing more. He’d devoted pages to the constant echoes of little Shigure’s songs in the corridors, newly underlaid with Midori’s harmony, and how they would make his retainer flinch. Neither sounded quite like Azura, he reported, yet there was still something achingly familiar-

“Grand Master Scarlet.”

And there he stood.

“King Ryoma!”

He smiled. “It’s been too long.”

The troops saluted and she made the formal welcomes before she could embarrass herself with more daydreams, inviting the delegation inside.

“Was that the old resistance? They’ve become even better than you described them,” Ryoma told her as the others craned their necks to view the expanse of the cavernous main hall.

“The Peonies, you mean? I’m pretty proud of them myself!”

“Peonies? A good name for them: valorous and brave.”

“You told me the Hoshidan meaning of the peony once before, I think.” The uncertainty was a small lie: she could never forget a single detail of the moment he pinned the flower to her chest. “Do you remember? You didn’t realise it was different in Cheve.”

“I believe I do,” said Ryoma. “It’s a fond memory for me.”

He was trembling, she took a little pleasure in noticing, faint movements he was trying desperately to quell. It disrobed him of the princely image in which he’d dressed himself and she could just catch a glimpse of the foreign volunteer who’d complained good-naturedly about frozen toes.

“You’re not cold, are you, Riyou?”

He grinned, obviously pleased to be called by his old rebel nickname.

“I thought I could handle a little bit of frost when all I knew was the Hoshidan winter, but it’s a different story all the way up here.”

“Well then, I’d hate to see you in Ice Tribe territory during midwinter.”

The grin slid off his face. “The Ice Tribe, hm.”

“Something wrong?”

“Ah, nothing really. It’s Leo. He’s being troublesome.”

Leo. No titles. Ryoma almost sounded fond when talking about him. Well, he was Corrin’s adoptive brother, and Corrin was alive and well, so maybe she’d brought them together. She’d had multiple meetings with the King herself, nothing but a shared Nohrian heritage and Lady Lyonors’ ghost linking them, along with her damned Rose Order: he’d brought them along as his guard. The man had never been Leo to her; only ever the King of Nohr, a politician who knew how to make a statement.

“He’s putting conditions on granting them more autonomy, you know,” said Ryoma. “I’ve never known him to be so stubborn. Though, admittedly I haven’t known him long.”

All of a sudden, she recalled her last conversation with the king: he sipping Chevois wine from his own mother’s cellar, sitting across from her in her solar and letting slip a few policy details as a gesture of trust - though considering his character, it was far more likely one of his traps designed to weed out informants:

_(“You believe the Hoshidans trustworthy? Oh, they act the devoted ally, no doubt, until they find any little thing to make Windmire look bad and then blow it completely out of proportion. You know, I must have received a dozen letters from Corrin, whining about how keeping Ice Tribe lands is upsetting her damned maid. Which I sincerely doubt. It was always her elder sister who had any head for politics and she’s… well. She’s gone now. In any case, no doubt the good king Ryoma has decided to make this his new crusade for justice.”)_

“I’m aware,” said Scarlet. She’d heard what happened to the last duke caught whispering away state secrets like sweet nothings to a lover.

“Ah, of course you must have,” said Ryoma. “Cheve and the Ice Tribe are in much the same position, aren’t they?”

_(“You of all people should be able to understand my position, Grand Master. Nohr lost so many soldiers trying to keep those lands - and we would have lost many more if not for your family. Oh, did you think them forgotten? No, the Roses are always bringing up your parents’ heroics during the Second Battle of the Frozen Wastes. I had no idea they were so illustrious before they came to the Windmire court; maybe I should have listened to my mother’s war stories more often. Why, they ought to be honoured throughout the land. Did you not consider following in their footsteps once?”)_

“I suppose so,” said Scarlet. “We did both rise against Garon’s regime.”

Ryoma nodded, gravely. “Of course. Don’t worry; as long as we have any influence on Nohr we’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again. You’ll be able to live in peace.”

“We’re grateful,” said Scarlet. “Really. But honestly, I don’t think you need to worry about that. The King is not his father. And I think the guy genuinely wants what’s best for Nohr.”

Irritatingly enough, it was true. While she had tried retaining her antipathy towards Nohrian nobles, the King had just been so damned efficient at clearing up his father’s messes that she had to admit he wasn’t a complete layabout. What she wasn’t sure of was whether his passion for fixing Nohr encompassed Cheve or not. Or if it was, whether she herself was an obstacle to reaching that goal.

Ryoma nodded. “I know. Still, he is…” He paused, obviously trying to think of a polite way of describing Hoshido’s closest and newest ally while still among his delegation. “Opportunistic.”

Scarlet winced as the word bounced around the room, no doubt finding its way to potential Windmire spies in the rafters and walls.

“Seizing opportunity when it strikes is the sign of a good leader,” she said. “As long as they keep their morals straight.”

She hoped that was neutral enough to offend neither of them.

Ryoma frowned, falling silent. They walked on, most of the Hoshidans peeling off until, as they reached her solar, only Ryoma and his two retainers were left. He dismissed them then, to the perpetually angry one’s obvious consternation.

Then they were alone.

Ryoma immediately moved himself over to the open window. “This is your view every day? It’s beautiful, though does the wind not bite?”

“I’m a wyvern knight. I’m hardly afraid of bites.” She grinned as he twisted around at that. “It’s cold, sure. But my clothes are warm enough and it keeps me alert. Besides, I ride my wyvern higher than this all the time. I can handle it.”

Ryoma chuckled.

“I missed you.”

And still, as Ryoma smiled at her, she couldn’t help but recall Leo standing there at the window - without Brynhildr or intent on murdering her, as he had told her with exaggerated care: she was not to be the second Duke Perceval. After several hours spent negotiating for his mother’s release, he’d gazed out of it and remarked that he’d read one could see Windmire from the tower and being disappointed he could not - though at least he could see Cheve.

“I gathered,” she said, “From how you mentioned it in every one of those letters you sent me. How did the last one go: if only I was a cherry blossom petal on the wind that could freely fly to you. I forget the exact wording.”

“Did you not like it?”

“I loved it, actually. It did surprise me, though. Didn’t realise you were the poetry type.”

“It’s traditional in Hoshido to send such things to the one you love.”

To have it said outright was a little startling, but Scarlet managed to stay composed. She’d heard him say it before, after all, and this was her territory. If anyone was going to get embarrassed, it would be him.

_(“Your attachment to the King of Hoshido has not gone unnoticed, nor the fact he’s still unmarried and paying rather exorbitant attention to this region. I’m curious how you expect to keep that relationship and a truly independent Cheve. Unless, of course, you plan on cutting off ties to Nohr and submitting your nation to the status of Hoshidan vassal for the sake of your own political power - or maybe more than that? I hope not. It would be so much worse if you sold your nation for nothing but selfish personal happiness.”)_

“Tradition, hm? Well, that does sound an awful lot more like you.”

_(“Though I’m sure it’s so much better being a Hoshidan vassal than one of ours. After all, just look at how well they respected Kohga. They had a queen on the throne of Shirasagi once too. Do you really believe yourselves to be different? On the other hand, I suppose you could always throw away your long-dreamed position and the nation you’ve fought for all these years to become queen of a foreign land, all alone, all your dreams of shaping the new Cheve abandoned.”)_

“Marry me,” said Ryoma.

_(“Just remember this: you are no longer you. You are Cheve, unless you make the decision to give her up. That is what it means to be a ruler. Do you think you can have all that power and sacrifice nothing? That is the path of the tyrant.”)_

“Ryoma,” she said. Nothing else came out.

“You are wonderful, Scarlet. I’ve told you how the court has been acting about my marriage, and it did anger me - but it made me realise what I truly wanted. There can be no-one else for me but you.”

“I don’t think I’m precisely what your courtiers were expecting.”

Ryoma shrugged it away. “You’re basically the ruler of Cheve.”

“Somehow I don’t think ‘basically’ will appease your court.”

“It’s their own fault,” said Ryoma with a smile. “They never gave specific details of who they were looking for as a queen.”

“Didn’t they bring up nationality either? I doubt they’d be happy with a Nohrian sitting beside their king.”

Ryoma frowned. “You’re Chevois. And your grandfather served the Hoshidan king.”

_(“Do you really believe that every Chevois wants exactly what you do? My mother, for one, certainly didn’t. You shouldn’t expect her to be an outlier either when the greatest of the old chivalric orders has abandoned you. Though I can help shift their loyalties back, if you want to be reasonable. And what of those Chevois to whom Hoshidans are strangers? Those loyal to their kingdom; those who depend on trade with us; and who would rather not be parted from what they see as their homeland? Open your eyes: there are more of them than you want to believe. Will you just decry them as traitors too, like you did my mother? Are you just like the rest, making decisions for your own benefit and ignoring your own people?”)_

“He did; just as my parents served Nohr. And I - I serve Cheve. That’s what I’ve decided.”

“I don’t understand. Was that not the point of the rebellion? To free Cheve from Nohr?”

“Well, yeah. I wanted to be free from Nohr - when Nohr was Garon. But now he’s is gone and openly despised. Whether he truly can be trusted or not, the new king has presented himself as a sign of hope. When Cheve was being crushed, Hoshido was a glorious symbol of past freedoms, but for every Chevois who wants to return to those days, there are a hundred more whose ancestors have fought for Nohr; a thousand who feel the dawning of a new age. I can’t just ignore them. I’m still their leader, after all.”

Ryoma looked understanding, but crestfallen.

“I’m not refusing you, Ryoma,” she said, quickly. “I do want to marry you. I just can’t do it right now. Cheve is near to splitting apart between Nohr and Hoshido. I need to wait until we’re stable. You know improving Cheve has always been my life’s ambition: I can’t just abandon her halfway through and watch her fall apart from the outside. I know you’re a king and the court is pressuring you to marry quickly for the sake of heirs. I understand if you can’t but - will you wait?”

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Ryoma sighed and smiled.

“I would not see you abandon what’s best for Cheve. You’d hardly be the woman I love if you did. I’ll hold you to your word if you hold to mine: one day, we will be joined together as the cherry blossoms fall, as my parents did before me.”

Scarlet grinned and launched herself forward into his embrace.

“So, do you want to get straight to matters of state?” asked Ryoma. Scarlet could hear rather than see his grin. “Nestria’s currency is plummeting; it might be best to take advantage of-”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Scarlet, holding onto him, trying to ignore all of King Leo's remarks bouncing around her head.

Ryoma tightened his arms around her.


End file.
